by Asha Lemmie
Her grandmother cracked a tiny smile at Nori’s obvious confusion.
“I have had new kimonos made for you, as well as new dresses in the modern style. I have also commissioned some fans, shoes, and pieces of jewelry. I’ve also had some other things made for you that should accommodate your future growth nicely. Akiko-san will be up shortly to prepare you. And I shall see you in the parlor soon. I have every confidence that you will represent our family well.”
Nori watched her grandmother leave as quickly as she had come in stunned silence.
When Akiko arrived a few minutes later, carrying a large cardboard box, Nori was finally able to react.
“Are those for me?”
“Yes, little madam.”
She scrambled over to the box, peering inside with a mixture of suspicion and joy. She could not help but let out a little squeal of delight as she began pulling things out.
Everything was lovely, but it was the kimonos that truly took her breath away. There were four of them, each more beautiful than the last. One was a shimmering gray, with a pattern of swirling clouds embroidered all along the fabric and a dark purple obi sash. The next was pale pink silk, with a pattern of butterflies on the train and sleeves. The third was sky blue with white and yellow flowers in a slanting pattern down the skirt, like a cascading waterfall.
But the fourth was her favorite. It was made of a simple cream-colored silk, with silver thread detailing the edges. The sleeves were bell-shaped and touched the floor. The obi was a gentle shade of peach, just like her favorite tree in the garden.
There were also fans and pearls—white, gray, black, and pink—but those hardly interested her either. While there was no doubt that they were beautiful—and very valuable—she was not accustomed to jewelry.
Akiko only allowed her a moment to fuss over her new possessions. The guests would be arriving shortly, and it would not do to be late.
“Who is coming, Akiko-san?” she asked. She did not dare speculate.
The maid looked down at her feet. “I don’t know. But mind your manners. And come here, let me fix that hair.”
Nori elected to wear the cream kimono, and she told Akiko to put her hair up in a bun like her grandmother’s. It was then tied with her most precious white ribbon, which she did not like to wear often for fear it would get dirty. But if people were coming to see her, important people, then what else was she saving it for?
Akiko pulled out a tiny tube of red lipstick and brushed it across Nori’s lips. “There you are, little madam.”
Nori looked in the mirror. She looked considerably less awful than she normally did. “Are we going now?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Akiko held out her hand, and Nori took it, taking comfort in the familiar rapport that had developed between them over the years.
They descended the stairs, and Nori could not help but recall how terrified she’d been at this very moment just a few brief months ago. So much had changed that she could still scarcely believe it.
Just before they rounded the corner, Akiko released her hand. Nori offered up a tiny smile. Akiko’s dark eyes filled with something unreadable. For a moment, the maid hesitated, but only for a moment and then she was gone.
Nori saw the woman first. It was hard to miss her: she was absolutely beautiful. She was tall and shapely, with her ample bosom on full display in a kimono that had been modified to be especially revealing. Her face was painted white and her lips red. She looked like a porcelain doll.
It took her a little while longer to notice the man. He was sitting in the corner against the window, calmly sipping at his tea. He was wearing a dark gray three-piece suit and glasses. He was missing most of his hair, and what little he did have left was combed over to one side of his head, like a little cluster of grass on a barren sidewalk.
Her grandmother stood quietly in the opposite corner, face half hidden by her trademark fan.
Not knowing what else to do, Nori dropped into a bow, taking extra care to mind her posture.
The woman let out a chuckle, and Nori was surprised that such a feminine-looking person had such a low, brassy voice.
“You must be Noriko.”
Nori straightened up and nodded. The woman was smiling at her, a brazen and unabashed smile that Nori was unaccustomed to. But she could not help but smile back.
“I’m Kiyomi,” she said pleasantly. “It’s very nice to finally meet you. Come closer, child. Let me look at you.”
Nori did as she was told and, in the process, caught a whiff of Kiyomi’s perfume. She smelled like cinnamon. Kiyomi looked Nori up and down, from her toes to the crown of her head. “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing. Very . . . exotic. Lovely eyes.”
Nori had to suppress the intense urge to fidget. “Thank you very much, madam.”
Kiyomi laughed again and ran a long finger with the nail painted bright red underneath Nori’s chin. Years of conditioning taught her not to pull away. “How old are you again?”
“Eleven.”
“Eleven,” Kiyomi mumbled, shooting the man in the corner a sly glance. “Young. Malleable. But they can be troublesome at this age. Crying and whatnot.”
“I assure you,” her grandmother interjected, with her usual coolness, “she has been very well trained.”
The man rose from his chair, and Nori noticed that he was very short, almost as short as she was. He had fat fingers with an abundance of hair growing on the knuckles, and she could not help but hope that he would refrain from touching her.
“She’s pretty,” he announced, to no one in particular. “Seems well-mannered enough. Halfway educated, I assume? Can she make tea? Read poetry?”
Her grandmother swatted her fan against her wrist, a telltale sign that she was irritated.
“You know very well that I would have nothing less, Syusuke. Are you interested, or are you going to continue to waste my time?”
Nori’s breath caught in her throat. But the man did not seem bothered by her grandmother’s behavior.
“Now, now, Yuko,” he huffed, waving one of his fat little hands in the air. “No need to get snippy. She’ll do nicely for my purposes. She should prove to be quite lucrative. A bit on the skinny side, though.”
“She will bloom in time,” Kiyomi interjected. “And I’ll look after her until then.”
She turned to Nori and flashed an infectious grin. It was spellbinding. “Are you truly obedient, Noriko?”
“Yes,” she chirped, flushing with pride. Her years of training left her confident in this one thing. “Yes, I am.”
“Yuko,” the man puffed, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his sweaty face with it. “We’ve known each other a long time. And you’ve never agreed to deal with me until now. Your father was the proudest man I ever met, and he thought I was no better than the stuff he used to wipe his ass with. Why the step down from your pedestal?”
Her grandmother’s face remained impassive. She seemed immune to this man’s crudeness or, if not immune, very used to it.
“If you’re quite finished. I want this settled as soon as possible.”
“I’m leaving town tonight. Hurry up if you’re going to do it.”
Her grandmother’s gray-black eyes flashed. “I realize that you’re used to dealing with the small folk. But don’t forget whose house you are in, Syusuke.”
“If it’s money—”
“I don’t argue over money,” her grandmother said briskly, snapping her fan shut. “It’s vulgar. I’ll resolve this with you later. But right now I want you both to leave the room.” She turned her gaze to Nori. “I would speak with my granddaughter alone.”
The man bowed low, and the woman shrugged as if it did not matter to her either way. When they had gone, her grandmother turned back to her. There was a long moment of silence that made Nori squirm.<
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“You did well, Noriko.”
Nori blinked. Somehow, after waiting all these years for these simple words, they did not touch her now. “Thank you, Grandmother.”
This earned her a wry smile. “What is it that you want, Noriko?”
What kind of question was this? She folded her hands together. “I don’t want anything.”
Her grandmother raised an eyebrow. “Everyone wants something. I’ve watched you for years, but I’ve never been able to figure out what you want. I’m not talking about what you wish for. I’m not talking about foolish whims. I’m asking you what your purpose is. What you’re willing to devote your life to, what you are willing to die for.”
Nori pinched the skin on the inside of her palm. This was a question that she had no answer for. She racked her brains but could come up with nothing but the truth. “I didn’t think I was allowed to have one.”
Her grandmother turned away from her and walked over to the desk, the train of her kimono sweeping behind her. She picked up a leather-bound book that looked to be very old.
“My purpose is clear,” she said, her voice firm, her shoulders straight and proud. “It has always been clear. I was born with it. I will die with it. My purpose, my life’s blood, is this family.”
She beckoned Nori to come forward. Her gaze was bright with determination. “Do you know what this book is?”
Nori shook her head.
Her grandmother held the book up high. “This is the family tome. The name of every Kamiza for a thousand years is written in this book. My name, your mother’s name. Akira-san’s too. One day he will be called to take my place. It is my duty, my absolute duty, to see it so before I leave this world. Do you understand that, child?”
“Yes.”
Their eyes met, and despite Nori’s skepticism, there was something incredibly moving about her grandmother’s rapt conviction.
“Will you play your part, Noriko?”
Nori blinked. Something in her chest was squeezing and she could not speak.
Her grandmother nodded. “I have been wrong. I have been very wrong to hide you away in shame. You are your mother’s daughter. You are my blood. And you too have a part to play. Your name will be written in this book. You will be remembered.”
Something was roaring in her ears. “I will?”
“You will. But you must do your duty. When I die, which cannot be so far off now, your brother will take on my responsibilities. It is a heavy burden to bear.” The old woman shook her head as if in wonderment that she had not collapsed beneath it. “Tell me something, girl.”
Nori was tempted to say “Anything”: anything for her name to be in that book, beside her brother’s. “Yes?”
“What is most important to you in the world?”
This, at least, was a question she could answer. A flush crawled up her cheeks.
Her grandmother gave her a knowing smile. “It’s Akira-san, isn’t it?”
Her eyes welled with tears, and she ducked her head and wiped them away. “Yes.”
“He will need your help. He needs it now, in fact. He needs you to do your duty so that he can do his. Only you can do it, Nori. Only you can protect him.”
Her heart was thudding so hard she thought it was going to explode out of her chest. “I will. I would do anything. I won’t fail you, Obaasama. I will be good.”
“I’m so very glad to hear that, child,” her grandmother whispered. She looked genuinely moved. “I truly am. As women, we do what we can. We do what we must.”
She shot a glance at the door but quickly looked back at Nori again.
“We do things that we never thought we were capable of in order to protect what we love.”
Nori was nodding now, trying to hold back the joyful tears. “I promise. I do promise.”
The old woman smiled one last time before turning her back; as she turned, Nori caught sight of her clutching that old leather book to her heart.
The doors opened. The short, fat man stuck his head in. He was sweating even though the house was comfortably cool.
“Well?”
Her grandmother did not turn around. “Take her.”
Nori looked from one to the other, her brow knitted in a frown even as her lips were still frozen in their smile.
He stomped into the room, and as he came near her, she caught the stench of tobacco. She backed away.
“Grandmother?” she whispered. She wanted to speak louder, but she couldn’t. Her voice was all gone. “Grandmother?”
But her grandmother was not looking at her. Her head didn’t even move to acknowledge that she had heard Nori speak.
Then there were arms around her waist and she was being dragged. The hem of her kimono caught under her scampering feet, and she pitched forward, clawing at nothing.
“Obaasama!” she shrieked, her voice coming back to her in a terrible rush. “I don’t understand! Please! I don’t understand!”
But the figure before her was frozen, a goddess of ice, immune to Nori’s plea.
“Obaasama! Please!”
“Come on, girl! Mind me now!” the man huffed at her, panting with the effort of pulling her towards the open doors.
“Oniichan!” Nori cried, though she knew her brother was far away at school and could not hear her. “Akira!”
“He’s gone,” the man said simply.
There was a sharp pain at the back of her neck and then there was nothing.
PART II
CHAPTER SEVEN
EXILE
Fall 1951
AKIKO
The shout splits the air like a clap of thunder.”Where is she?”
My lady meets her grandson’s eyes without flinching. “Akira-san, calm yourself.”
I am cowering by the door of the study, a tea tray clattering in my hands. I have walked into a storm.
“Where?” he booms, and I find that I am surprised at his wrath.
Yuko-sama crosses her arms. “You’re a highly intelligent boy, Akira-san. Surely you understand that this was necessary.”
The veins in Akira-sama’s forehead are bulging out, and his eyes are stormy. “What have you done with Nori?”
“She is no longer your concern. If you lack for company, I will find you some proper acquaintances.”
Akira-sama is clearly stunned at her cool demeanor. “What is wrong with you?”
“The girl is fine,” Lady Yuko says absently. “I assure you she won’t be harmed.”
“You’re lying,” he spits at her.
She sighs. “Dearest grandson, this conversation is at an end. It’s time now to look to the future.” She smiles broadly. “And what a bright future it will be.”
He starts forward, and for half a heartbeat I think that he is going to strike her. I think she thinks so too. But then he shakes his head and turns on his heel to walk away, realizing that there is nothing more to be gained from this. Not today, at least. Maybe not ever.
I leave the tray on the table and scramble into the hallway after him.
He gives me a weary look. “Do you know where she is?”
I start to say no, but I choke on it. I really don’t know where the little madam is. But I know I heard her scream. I know she is not safe. And I said nothing and let her go.
As if those clear eyes can see straight into the heart of my shame, Akira-sama tosses a last remark at me before he strides away. He sounds almost bewildered. “She trusted you.”
I turn my gaze to the floor I polished just this morning. The light catches it, and it glints like thirty pieces of silver.
* * *
KIYOMI
There are fifty-two girls in the hanamachi right now, fifty-three including our newest addition.
And I oversee all of them. This may not sound like much, but
I was born on a straw floor in 1921, the youngest of four and the only girl. My father was a rice farmer, and my mother only had one good arm, so she could never get any work, even in the rich people’s houses. We lived on a pathetic patch of land that was always wet and gray. That’s all I really remember. Well, that and the hunger. There was never any food. The crop failed year after year, and my big brothers and I withered up too. When I was nine, my ribs were poking through my skin and you could trace my collarbone like a stencil.
I was so thin that the whorehouse my father sold me to almost didn’t take me.
I glance at the pale girl kneeling in front of me in the darkened room, and I find myself wishing, not for the first time, that my sympathy had not all dried up many years ago.
At least she’s not crying. Most of the girls who come to me are less than nothing, country girls with families who need meat more than another useless daughter. Some come willingly, knowing that they will have food in their bellies and a bed to sleep in, even if it is one they will have to share. Some are ugly and some are pretty. But all of them cry.
Not Noriko. Her back is straight, with her hands folded in her lap and her peculiar eyes fixed straight ahead. Even if she is coming apart at the seams, she will not show it to me. She has been raised in a hard school. Yuko, that old bitch, was telling the truth about that.
“Do you know why you are here?” I ask, as gently as I can. It’s not my job to intimidate the girls. I was them once. They come to me with their grievances, and I do what I can, though it is next to nothing.
She doesn’t say anything. Her little mouth is trembling. She has nice lips—already full though she is a girl of eleven, pleasantly soft—but there is a dimple in her chin. Perhaps some will find it endearing. For what we paid for her, she had better end up pretty. Her mother was a famous beauty. And even though nobody knows who her father is or what he looks like, save for his dark skin, I can’t imagine Seiko Kamiza flinging her certain future away for anything remotely ordinary.
I tap my foot. “Noriko-chan, I intend to be kind to you. But you must do as you are told or it will go badly for you. You belong to us now.”
